October '25: Halloween on the Spooky Stage
“When we bought this place, this was the night we had in mind” is what one of the Pauls told me backstage at Birdie’s on the theater’s first Halloween night. For this inaugural Halloween bash, they planned a full evening of live music and variety entertainment, and their audience responded by selling out the place before I had even picked out a costume. I know Paul felt bad turning folks away once they reached capacity, but nobody wants to break the fire code on their big night (especially when there’s a juggler balancing a lit candle on his tablecloth-ed face).
Between live music & DJs keeping the Halloween spirit alive, a handful of variety acts would appear on stage at regular intervals to keep partygoers entertained. I learned that the festivities would continue until the sold-out audience had mostly gone home, or until the early hours of Nov 1st at closing time—whichever came first. When the clock struck 12, there was still a decent crowd, so I knew I’d be breaking out the extra material I had brought along.
I had another show the following evening, so when I was planning what to bring, I was careful to include the pieces I knew I could reuse. Any time I have multiple performances back-to-back, there are lots of reasons to keep the material similar when it’s possible:
First, it’s less to practice and rehearse. I’d much rather be well-rehearsed with a few routines than have to knock the dust off of several before a busy weekend
I also don’t have to unpack / repack my case at the end of the night—sometimes it doesn’t even have to leave the trunk of the car (especially useful when you’re still on stage after midnight and have to be at venue #2 the next morning)
And most important to me, back-to-back performances allow me to take notes, tweak, and do it better next time. Just like standup comedians, I take advantage of any opportunity to review my act (whether it’s mentally, through an audio recording, or ideally a full video) and carefully note what went well and what could be improved in some way
When I arrived, I saw that much of the stage was covered in music and sound equipment for the bands that would be playing throughout the evening. I started to worry about the extra risk I’d be adding when I juggled the Hoop & Glass in my first set. I feel confident in my ability to swing a glass of water around the stage without spilling a drop, but juggling is juggling, and juggling is real—that means no matter how much I’ve prepared, there’s always a chance a full glass of water could come crashing down on someone else’s expensive electronics. I decided to rearrange my setlists, moving the Hoop & Glass toward the end of the night, after some of the equipment was gone and there was a slightly smaller audience to witness the potential disaster. It was after midnight when I finally performed that set; fortunately, all the sound equipment stayed totally dry.
What didn’t stay completely dry were my hoop, glass, forehead, and anything else I touched—they all got a small treatment of Halloween-style blood from an on-stage mishap that I think went unnoticed by most of the audience. Just before the hoop & glass juggling, I did a quick one-handed stunt with a knife & lemon, and although the stunt itself was flawless, I rushed the easy part—cutting the lemon in half afterward (without any juggling whatsoever)—and gave myself myself a deep cut with the sharp paring knife. The music had already started and a costumed crowd was watching, so I didn’t have time to give any thought to my bleeding right hand, I needed to devote all my attention to not frying the sound board on the floor in front of me. I got a glimpse of the bloody finger about halfway through the routine, when I had a second to glance down before I placed my whole hand over my face to spin the hoop & glass blindfolded (see below). I made it through the routine with no drops, and backstage, a tissue and a rubber band kept my props clean while I packed up.
I enjoyed spending Halloween at our local spooky theater on their big night. On my drive home, I reflected on how my performances went, taking note of exactly what went wrong and making mental adjustments for the next one. With my lesson learned, I was sure to be careful and methodical with the next night’s lemon-slicing, so I could move safely onto my next routine without another injury—see, there’s always something to learn and improve! It was early the next morning when I finally got home to clean and re-bandage my little cut. Lucky for me, I didn’t even have to fully unload the car, since I’d be on stage with Arkansas’ Masters of Illusion just a few hours later.
